All About Spike - Print Version
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Rating: PG, a bashed up Spike
Feedback: That would be very nice of you, thank you.
Spoilers: Up to season 5’s “Intervention”
Distribution: Here. If you are interested (which would stun me), please ask.
Summary: Spike was in such bad shape after Glory’s session of playing with him that I wanted someone to baby him a little. It’s rather sniffly.
Disclaimer: All characters are owned by Mutant Enemy (Joss Whedon), a wonderfully creative company whose charcters I have borrowed for a completely profit-free flight of fancy. Kindly do not sue me, please, as I am terrified of you. Thank you.
Dedication: For dear little Ellie.
still asleep. Good. The last thing she wanted to do was wake
him. There would be far too many
questions, and besides, he desperately needed the rest. With tear filled eyes she took at the array
of wounds that Glory had left on him, marring practically every square inch of
exposed flesh. She winced in sympathy.
practiced tenderness, she eased the still sleeping vampire out of his torn
black T-shirt. How could anyone have
been done this to him? Burn marks, stab
wounds, bruises, broken bones… the list went on and on. She had never been able to understand
cruelty in any form, but this? This was
almost unthinkable. With a tremendously
light touch, she began to tentatively bathe his injuries, cleaning out the
grime that had become imbedded in them.
He had been far too weak to tend to himself earlier, and she didn’t want
him to risk an infection. Somehow, she
managed to cleanse his wounds without him ever waking.
turned her attention to the bruises that had swollen his eyes almost completely
shut. A cool compress rested against
his brow, a vain attempt to bring down the hideous swelling, but still
providing some measure of comfort. A small
smile appeared on her face when she realized he would probably have far preferred
she used a raw steak instead: a
smiling slightly, she moved on to the puncture wound in his abdomen. Sighing, she knew there wasn’t all that much
she could do for that particular problem, but at least the vampire’s fast rate
of healing would end that suffering quickly.
She put a clean bandage on it, fastening it in place firmly yet
and scalds that appeared on his face and chest were an angry red. Crushing the leaves of an aloe plant, she
carefully spread the soothing extract on the marks made by Glory’s torture,
paying extra attention to what appeared to be a cigar burn on his chest. Repulsed once again at the animal-like
behavior that had caused the blemish, a hiss of anger passed her lips.
she looked at the marks that the glass had left on his lip and cheek. Examining the skin carefully, she was happy
to note that there were no shards still imbedded in his face. Given time, he would heal. Tears came to her eyes once again as she thought
of how much he had suffered and how bravely he had faced it, even the specter
of impending death, with a stubborn refusal to give Glory the smallest piece of
information about the key. She knew
that he had been a very, very bad boy in his day, and in many ways still
was. Frowning slightly, she remembered
the robot. Now that had not been good
at all. However, Rome wasn’t built in a
day, and he’d come a very long way down a none-too-easy path.
done all she could to ease his pain.
Reversing her actions of earlier, she pulled a clean shirt over his head
and then flipped his pillow over, exposing a fresh, cool side to his
cheek. She quickly checked the
refrigerator and was pleased to see he had an ample supply of blood for the
next several days. Although she wished
that she could have done more for him, she knew it was time to leave. She pressed one gentle hand against his
forehead, soothing him like a child with a fever. His eyelids fluttered open.
murmured, taken back for a moment to the days of his childhood in London when
his mother had stayed beside him through a bout of the flu. “That you?”
for protecting my babies,” she whispered quietly in his ear before dissolving
into thin air.
I’m going nuttier than Dru,” Spike groaned to himself. “For just one second there, I could have
sworn I saw…”
died away as he saw the clean shirt he was wearing and felt the bandages that
now dressed his wounds.